


Knitting a Heart Back Together | Bill Weasley

by lestrangetime



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Angst, Canon Divergence - Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, F/M, Family, Fluff, Friendship, Grief/Mourning, Multi, Mutual Pining, One Shot, One Shot Collection, Post-Battle of Hogwarts, Survivor Guilt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-07
Updated: 2020-12-07
Packaged: 2021-03-09 21:34:43
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27933172
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lestrangetime/pseuds/lestrangetime
Summary: After losing almost everything in the war, you slowly try to pick yourself up again. It’s not until you attend a knitting class led by Molly Weasley that leads you down a path to healing as you begin to open your heart up to love again.
Relationships: Bill Weasley & Molly Weasley, Bill Weasley/Reader, Bill Weasley/You
Comments: 5
Kudos: 40





	Knitting a Heart Back Together | Bill Weasley

Molly Weasley was skillful in many ways: being a loving mother to seven wonderful red-headed children, always knowing what advice to give, and knitting a plethora of cozy jumpers every winter. With all of her children off to Hogwarts or out of the house, working their assortment of jobs in the Wizarding World, the Burrow became a quiet place in the autumn and Molly became restless. She loved her husband, of course, but the man spent so much time tinkering with Muggle objects in his free time that Molly decided it was time for her to turn her favorite hobby into something more social. So she marched down to the community center in town and took on a role as a knitting instructor on Thursday nights. 

When you noticed the flyer for the new class at the community center one day when you were walking home, the thought of going lingered in your mind for days later. Knitting was something you had done with your mother when you were growing up, spending long winters indoors sitting near the fireplace as your father brought his two favorite hard working ladies a cup of hot cocoa when he thought you were working a bit too hard. He’d then put on one of his favorite Muggle albums on the record player and the room would be filled with soft sounds of acoustic guitars, the sweetness of the drink in your mugs, and the endless love that each of your parents had for you. When you came home in the midst of a war to a house in near-ruin and the news that you would never be able to spend a winter evening with your parents one last time, you didn’t know if you’d feel anything nearly as happy again. 

You hadn’t picked up a pair of knitting needles in years and you didn’t know what it would feel like now, knowing that the person responsible for your love for the hobby was gone forever. Still, you surprised yourself when you showed up to class the next week. You immediately felt drawn to your instructor’s warm persona and welcoming voice. She introduced herself as Molly Weasley and spent the first class explaining the basics and allowed the class participants to get a feel for the knitting needles. When your rusty hands couldn’t get the hang of your starter stitch, she was so patient and took the extra time to guide you through it. It was painful to pick up a pair of knitting needles again, but doing so gave you a sense of comfort and you looked forward to the class the next week. As odd as it seemed, even though Molly was basically a stranger, she reminded you so much of your own mother, so when she stopped you on your way out of class, you were thrilled to stay and chat for a little bit. 

“Y/N, I’m quite impressed with the progress you’re making. You should be so proud!” She said with an encouraging smile. 

“Oh, thank you so much Mrs. Weasley. I really appreciate it,” you responded and felt your cheeks growing warm as you accepted the compliment. 

“You can just call me Molly, Y/N, no worries about formalities here. Out of curiosity though, what project are you most looking forward to making?” she asked. 

You considered the question for a second then replied, “I’d love to be able to make a jumper one day. It’s my favorite thing to wear and what’s more special than making one of your own?” You say with a smile inching across your face. Growing up, the most you could ever make without getting impatient with the process was a scarf, but you considered your mother a master of crafting the coziest, warmest jumpers. Each year, she would make your small family coordinated, yet different patterned jumpers for the winter. At the time, you thought it was silly, matching with your mother and father, but looking back now you realize how much work your mother put into the jumpers and how proud she always was when she saw you wearing them. 

“Oh how lovely, Y/N!” Molly exclaimed. “I will say, I do think jumpers are my speciality.” 

“I’d love to see one of them sometime, to see how an expert does it.” 

“Are you free tomorrow?” Molly inquired. “We could have tea and I could show you some of my own projects, and maybe even a new stitch! How fun!” 

“That sounds wonderful, I’ll be there.” She wrote down directions to her home, which she called ‘the Burrow’ and told you to come by at four tomorrow afternoon. On the way home, you felt excited for the first time in weeks -- no, months. Losing both of your parents to the war left you with an insurmountable grief. You were teaching at Mahoutokoro, the wizarding school in Japan, when you heard the news that the war was getting worse, more intense. You left as soon as you could, but it was too late by the time you got home -- your childhood home was nearly destroyed and you soon found out that both of your parents had been murdered at the hands of Death Eaters. The shock took control of your body; you could barely eat, sleep, or talk to anybody. You were left with a broken heart and an all-encompassing numbness.

You spent weeks laying on the couch in the living room, replaying every happy memory you had of your family that raised you under the very roof you now felt yourself rotting beneath. Occasionally you listened to what was left of your father’s Muggle music collection and let the music take over the incessant thoughts that plagued your mind for a change. But still, you simply couldn’t stop wondering if things would have turned out differently if you had been home. Would you have been able to save your parents? Would they still be here filling the house with warmth and life? 

The grief, guilt, and loneliness had taken a toll on you, but you found Molly’s knitting classes to have a sort of therapeutic essence to them. Little by little her presence and motherly care started to patch your broken heart back up again. 

-

The next day, you made your way to the Burrow for tea and knitting promptly at four in the afternoon. When you arrived, you couldn’t help but ogle at the strange looking structure; everything seemed out of place but right at home all at the same time. But stepping inside the house, you immediately felt a warmth that you didn’t know you’d been longing for. Warm lights lit the room and soft colors adorned the living space. A fire was crackling in the fireplace that filled the room with a smoky, delightful scent. Molly welcomed you in and led you to the kitchen where there was already a hot pot of Earl Grey in the kettle with the most pleasant little sweets to go along with it. 

You and Molly sat at the kitchen table talking about anything and everything. Molly wanted to know everything about you and of course what you were doing in the seemingly unassuming town they lived in all alone, so it wasn’t long until you started talking about your family and what happened to them. Molly could tell talking about it was upsetting you, so she didn’t press for details and you weren’t sure you were ready to share them anyway. Instead she just reached across the table, placed her hand over yours, and gave it a soft, caring squeeze that let you know that what you felt was valid; it was okay to feel this way. And for the first time in a long time you felt like maybe things were going to be all right; that you were going to be all right. 

Wiping away a tear, you gave Molly a soft smile, and said, “Enough of me, I want to hear about you!” So she went on gushing over all seven of her children, going down the line about how proud she was of each of them, what they did for employment and all of their impressive accomplishments. She brought out her knitting projects and explained that she was currently in the process of knitting each of her kids and their partners new jumpers that had a big block letter adorned across the chest. In almost no time, the sun was setting and your stomach started rumbling, signaling that it was almost dinner time. You were just about to mention that you should be getting home, when you heard the “WHOOSH” of someone apparating come from the living room. Before either of you could register what was happening, the sound of footsteps made its way to the kitchen. 

“Oh, there’s my handsome son! What are you doing home?” Molly exclaimed and rose from the table to greet the tall, slender man standing at the door to the kitchen. She wraps him in a hug and he mumbles an explanation into her hair. You are immediately struck by the fiery shoulder length hair that perfectly frames his face adorned with prominent scars. Your face grew red at the thought that entered your mind: Molly was right; he was very handsome and because of that, you could not take your eyes off of him. 

“Y/N, this is my eldest, William. He’s always so busy with his job at Gringotts that he rarely has time for a visit. What a pleasant surprise!” 

“You can just call me Bill. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he said with a smile, one filled with warmth, not unlike Molly’s, and extended a hand. You reach out to shake it and your skin grows warm with the contact and you feel your stomach do a flip. Suddenly, you’re well aware of how long you’ve been shaking his hand now.

“It’s nice to meet you too,” you gushed. “Molly’s told me so much about the family. You’re the curse-breaker, right?” you asked. Bill raised an eyebrow, wondering how you already knew that. “Molly mentioned it earlier,” you explained with a shy smile, and you felt your face grow warm with slight embarrassment. You felt anything but cool right now. 

“We’ve been so busy chatting that I’ve totally lost track of time!” Molly said in shock. “Y/N, you should stay for dinner. You’re already here; it’d just make sense.” 

Not long after, you sat down for dinner with Molly, Arthur, and Bill, chatting while you ate the delicious meal that Molly had prepared. Bill was telling an interesting story about his work at Gringotts in London and you found yourself intrigued by his adventures as a curse-breaker in Egypt, hanging onto every word he said. But then you found both Bill and Arthur express particular interest in your presence at the table. 

“It’s just not often that we see a new guest here,” Arthur argued when Molly gave him a slap to the wrist for asking too many personal questions; this time he’d asked what you were doing before moving to town. 

“Molly, it’s okay, I promise,” you gave her a small smile, then continued. “I was teaching at the wizarding school in Japan for a few years. It had always been a dream of mine to go, and they have a really impressive Astronomy program there, so it was nice to put my area of expertise into good use,” you explained. “I grew up here, and I ended up coming home right before the war ended. But it was too late. When I stepped inside the house I spent the better part of my life in, it was nearly destroyed. And then a few days later I found out that a couple of Death Eaters had…” you swallowed hard. This was the first time you said the words out loud. “They had killed my parents; they were gone, they were never coming back.” Fighting back the tears that begged to fall, you wiped your eyes and cast your eyes down to your lap. When you lifted your head, you were met by Bill’s comforting gaze, but little did you know that an anger was coursing through him at the thought of you having to go through a hell like that. 

“But anyway,” you continued. “I’ve spent the past year trying to get the house back together and adjust to life back at home. I’m hoping to get a position at Hogwarts one of these days, but for now I’m just tutoring other wizard kids in town to keep myself busy,” you explained, trying to get everyone’s spirits back up as you tried to sound hopeful. 

As dinner went on, Molly noticed the way Bill listened intently to every word you spoke, rarely taking his eyes off of you. She knew the look in his eyes too well for her to brush it off. It was the same look she witnessed Ron give Hermoine and Ginny give Harry. Molly Weasley knew better than to think she was seeing things. She may not be as spry as she once was in her younger years, but she likes to think she’s still got good vision and is able to tell when her own son is a bit infatuated. Although she’s only known you for a few weeks, she noticed your gentle, patient, and caring demeanor, but also your strength, passion, and bravery. Knowing Bill, he could use a bit of a push, so she vowed to be the extra nudge to get this relationship off the ground. She knew she couldn’t be too hasty though, so she began her plan with inviting you to tea again next Friday, and made sure Bill was within earshot to overhear. 

As the night came to a close, you stood chatting with Molly as you put on your jacket while Bill and Arthur cleaned up in the kitchen. “Thank you so much for having me this evening, Molly. It really was so lovely,” you expressed. 

“It was a pleasure, Y/N. Will you come ‘round next Friday for dinner, as well? As you know, it does get quiet with just Arthur and I around and you bring such lively conversation. We’d love to have you join us again,” Molly gushed, though you thought you noticed the slightest increase in volume of her tone. She was all smiles otherwise. 

A smile grew on your face at the thought of another Friday at the Burrow. “I’d love to,” you say in response. 

“Perfect,” Molly said with a smile. “Now, are you sure you’ll be alright walking home? I’m sure you’re perfectly capable, but it is getting pretty late.” 

“Yeah, I think so!” you affirmed, but at that, Bill, who had been listening intently to your conversation up until that point while he cleaned up the kitchen, hastily wiped his wet hands on a kitchen towel and made quick strides to the living room. 

“I can walk with you, Y/N,” Bill offered, but it all comes out too fast and he silently scolds himself for being such a dweeb. The way your name flowed from his mouth sent a shiver down your spine. But was that a hint of eagerness you heard in his voice?

“You really don’t have to…” You started, but if you didn’t know any better you’d think you saw a bit of a pleading look in Bill’s eyes -- like he wanted to walk you home. “I wouldn’t want to burden you.”

“I promise, you wouldn’t be,” Bill insisted, a softness in his voice. Voice stuck in your throat, you could only nod in approval of the offer. Bill threw on his jacket and a knitted scarf and the two of you were out the door. 

When you first started walking, you were afraid the entire walk home would be plagued by an uncomfortable silence in the presence of a handsome near-stranger. But it was far from anything like that. Once the two of you started talking, it was like having a conversation with a friend you’d known for years. It all felt so natural and you felt understood in a way you hadn’t for a very long time. At one point, Bill noticed you shiver and didn’t hesitate to offer you his scarf, which he delicately placed around your shoulders. It was undoubtedly one of Molly’s creations and you took in the scent of it as you wrapped yourself up in the fabric, and the smell of him, of spices and leather, enveloped you. 

As you approached the cottage in town you called home, you unwrapped the scarf from around your neck, and went to hand it back to Bill, but instead you found him pushing it back into your hands. “Keep it,” he says. “It looks better on you anyways,” and for probably the fourth time this evening, Bill made your cheeks grow warm with a feeling that was long foreign to you. 

-

The next Friday, when Bill apparated into the living room, he found you and Molly sitting on the couch with your tea. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” he said. “I’ve been looking forward to dinner all week.” Bill didn’t elaborate, but he had spent the last 6 days in London thinking about the next time he’d be in your presence; see your face, hear your voice. When he took a seat next to you, you felt his shoulder brush yours and you thought your arm would burst into flames at the touch. 

Neither of you noticed, but Molly wore a slight, but satisfied smirk for the rest of the night.

-

A few Fridays later, you stepped through the front door, your cheeks flushed from the cold and happy to be embraced by the warmth of the house. Now that you were in the habit of visiting the Burrow weekly, Molly invited you to come and go as you pleased. Just as you were taking your winter gear off, Bill walked into the living room. 

“Ah, Y/N! I thought I heard you come in.” You turned around to face him as you unraveled the scarf you were wearing from around your neck. No matter how many times Bill showed up for dinner on your now-sacred Fridays, seeing him again made your heart flutter. 

“Hi, Bill, I can’t believe you’re here so earl--” you start saying, but Bill interrupted your thought.

“Is that my scarf?” He asks, a surprised look on his face. 

“Yes, the one that you let me borrow and told me to keep? Do you want it back?” Your eyebrows were furled in confusion.

“Nope, I’m just… just glad to see you’re getting a good use out of it, that’s all,” he said with a timid smirk. “It still looks nice on you, by the way,” he mentioned quickly, then slid back into the kitchen. You chuckled to yourself as you turned back around to hang your jacket on the coat rack before the sound of the three Weasleys’ laughter led you into the kitchen as well.

-

Your Friday evenings at the Weasleys’ grew longer and longer. Now after dinner you would often find yourself sitting in the living room in front of the fireplace sometimes with Molly and Arthur, but always with Bill. 

On this particular evening, Molly and Arthur had long gone to bed, but you and Bill were still awake talking on the sofa, facing each other. The only light left in the house was the warm glow emitted from the fireplace. The softness of the light illuminated Bill’s features in a way that made him look more attractive than ever. 

“Can I ask you a question, Y/N? ” Bill proposed. 

“What do you want to know, William?” you asked, casting a curious eye in his direction.

He’s quiet for a moment, but then he asked the question that's been weighing on his mind since the first night he met you, which was also the last time you mentioned it: “Do you think about them often? Your parents?”

You considered the question for a moment, and with a deep sigh you answered, “I think about them all the time.”

He doesn’t respond right away, but instead gives you the space you might need to continue. And so you do. 

“I… I actually haven’t really talked about it with anyone since it happened,” you told him. “It’s just that… for so long I have felt so guilty. Part of me can’t help but think that if I’d been here.. If I’d been home, they’d both still be here. Like maybe if I wasn’t selfishly living my own life, then I would’ve been able to save them.” 

“You had no idea that this was going to happen, though,” Bill assured you. 

“I know, but I still just feel such a consuming, crushing feeling of guilt. It feels like it’s my fault and it makes me feel so empty,” your eyes were full, brimming with tears, sadness, and pain; more pain than Bill ever wanted you to feel. He knew he couldn’t go back in time to prevent you from feeling this way, but he so deeply wanted to make sure you never had to feel this way again.

“What you’re feeling is valid, Y/N, but I have a feeling that your parents were so proud of you for following your dreams. It’s rare and it’s brave, and not many people can say they’ve done the same.” 

You brought your head up to meet his comforting eyes and in them you can see they reflect your sadness. He brought his hand up to cup your cheek and brushed away your tears with his thumb. The small gesture and his soft, tender touch made every single nerve in your body light up. 

“Thank you, Bill,” you said. “I tend to forget about that, but you’re right. I’ve been through a lot this year -- I mean all of us have, really -- but most of it doesn’t feel real. I have felt so lost and so alone for so long, but spending time with you and your family has made me... feel again.” 

“I have?” Bill asked, raising his eyebrows in surprise. 

A timid smile grows on your face. “Yes, you have,” you whisper. “Now, can I ask you a question?”

“I think that’s only fair,” he replied with a smirk. 

“How did you get those scars?” 

“I owe it all to a werewolf, name of Greyback,” he explained. “Hope to repay the favor one day.” 

“Merlin, a werewolf?!” 

“No worries, I wasn’t turned into one. But I do have a penchant for very rare steaks now,” he chuckled. 

“That was one of the first things I noticed about you, along with your hair” you admitted. “How do you feel about them?” 

“I don’t love the scars and they remind me of the war, of a dark time. But I’m slowly learning to accept that they’re a part of me now,” Bill confessed. 

“When I first saw you, I thought you looked brave, and too handsome for your own good.” At that comment, a huge smile crept across Bill’s face and he tilted his head down to hide the blush you caused.

After Bill walked you home that night, he laid awake in his childhood bed for hours, thinking of you and only you. He wanted to tell you so badly how deeply his feelings ran for you, how much it hurt to see you in so much pain. He knew you were still grieving the loss of your parents; that you were only beginning to heal. But he would be there when you were ready to open your heart again to let him in. 

-

A few weeks later while you were walking home after dinner with Bill by your side, he asked if you could teach him a few constellations, surprising you with the fact that he remembered your passion for astronomy. You were both still pretty far from town and it was an exceptionally clear night, so the two of you found a clearing off the side of the road and laid down on the soft ground side by side. You spoke softly as you pointed to the sky, “Do you see that one? That’s Andromeda.” 

Bill was quiet as he tried to follow your finger as it traced the constellation. “How’d she get up there?” He asked. 

“Long, long ago,” you began, “the queen of Ethiopia, Cassiopeia, had a daughter named Andromeda. Cassiopeia bragged and bragged about how beautiful her daughter was and one day she said that Andromeda held even more beauty than the Nereids, who were sea nymphs that were incredibly beautiful. This made the nymphs upset so they asked Poseidon to punish Cassiopeia for offending them, and he commanded the sea monster Cetus to attack Ethiopia. With an attack imminent, the king and queen found out that the only way to save Ethiopia was to sacrifice their daughter to the sea monster. Andromeda was chained to a rock by the sea, ready to be sacrificed to Cretus, when Perseus, with the head of Medusa, turned the sea monster to stone. With that heroic action, he saved Andromeda and they got married, and after she died many years later, Athena placed her in the sky as a constellation, to honor her...” 

You felt Bill’s gaze from the corner of your eye and slowly stopped talking as you turned to face him. He didn’t take his eyes off of you and you knew that if you were to move your head in the slightest, your lips could be on his and you’d shut up about astronomy for the rest of the night. 

“How are you so bloody brilliant?” Bill whispered, breaking the silence. 

You smiled shyly, “You’re just saying that.” 

“No, Y/N, I mean it. If you taught me astronomy in school, I might have actually learned a thing or two. You’re the smartest person I know.” Bill shifted his hand so it softly brushed yours and you felt your breath hitch as the slight touch sent a shiver down your spine. 

“You’re the sweetest person I know,” you said and felt your heart nearly burst out of your chest. 

Plagued with nervousness and uncertainty, you bolted into an upright sitting position. “I think I’m getting cold,” you stammered. “Maybe we should keep walking?” Bill only nodded in response and followed you down the path that led back to the road. 

-

As the holidays grew closer, you had a growing feeling of dread deep in your gut. It was like Molly Weasley had a sixth sense for sadness when she asked you if you would like to join her family for Christmas at the Burrow. You’d never said yes to anything faster in your life. You were mostly looking forward to spending the holiday in a place you felt safe, warm, and welcomed. But you also looked forward to spending the holiday with someone you’d grown quite close to over the past few months over Friday dinners and tea and walks home: Bill Weasley. 

Little did you know, though, that Molly Weasley had other plans besides making sure you weren’t spending Christmas alone. Christmas was going to be the magnum opus of her plan to finally get the two of you to succumb to the feelings she saw growing between the two of you the past few months. While she was decorating the house for the holiday, she thought it wouldn’t hurt to hang a few extra sprigs of mistletoe around. There would be plenty of people in the house by the time the holiday rolled around, so she didn't think the small decoration would be too obvious.

Soon all of her children and their partners were home for Christmas and the Burrow was lively and filled with spirit once again. When Bill walked into the house, all of his siblings were already there. He was thrilled to see them all, but he found himself scanning the room for you above all else. As he realized that you hadn’t arrived yet, he let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding in. Why was he so nervous? He’d seen you nearly a dozen times already, so seeing you tonight wasn’t going to be anything new. 

Molly drew Bill in for a hug and exclaimed, “So nice to see you again so soon, my sweet boy,” and planted a kiss on his cheek. 

“Again?!” George piped up. 

“So soon?!” Fred inquired. 

“Um, yeah,” Bill starts nervously and rubs the back of his neck, unsure of how to explain. “I’ve been coming ‘round for dinner pretty often lately. Just missed being home, I guess.”

Molly says nothing, keeping her observations to herself and only raises an eyebrow in Bill’s direction. 

“Ohhhh,” Ginny chimed in. “It’s because of a girl, isn’t it, Bill? Who is she? Is she coming here tonight?” 

Bill buried his face in his hands as he could feel his cheeks turn bright red at the mere mention of you, but his siblings couldn’t interrogate him any further because all heads turned towards the front door opening now. 

Some say that when two people are in love with each other, you can see it in their eyes. The attraction and admiration is almost palpable in the way they stare, in the glances they steal. The longing is bound by a single, invisible thread that keeps them coming back to each other. 

Every other Weasley witnessed this phenomenon as soon as you walked into the Burrow and Bill’s eyes immediately found yours from across the room. You felt a huge grin grow across your face as you were met by a glowing Bill, who was still blushing from his sister’s comment. Overwhelmed by the jovial environment at first, you finally began to relax as Bill introduced you to each of his siblings and their respective partners who you were delighted to finally meet. And though you enjoyed every dinner you had with the Weasleys, the Christmas dinner prepared was absolutely delectable. 

Even with all the laughter erupting around you and familial love drifting through the air, you still couldn’t help but feel the tug of your grief that stayed nestled in the darkest corners of your brain. You wanted so badly to feel the full range of happiness again. Observing the slight change in your mood and knowing how difficult this holiday would be for you, Molly pulled you aside and everything that had been building up inside of you came pouring out. 

“I don’t want to ruin your holiday, I promise,” you told her. “I… I don’t know why I can’t move on.”

“My dear, that’s not how grief works,” Molly reassured you. “Whether you want them there or not, those feelings, those memories are a part of you now. You have to allow yourself to feel deeply, both the good and the bad. You can’t force them out; you have to be vulnerable with yourself. Even if it doesn’t feel like it now, you’ll make peace with it soon.” 

Molly pulled you into a hug and smoothed your hair, while she let your cry into her shoulder. “Despite everything you’ve been through, you still find ways to smile every day and I’m proud of you for that,” she said and you slowly pulled away from the hug. 

“Thank you, Molly,” you responded. “I really don’t know what I’d do without you and Bill.” 

“Thank you, Y/N. I think I can speak for both of us when I say we love having you around. You really liven the place up when the rest of the kids are gone,” Molly explained. “Speaking of, with all the kids gone, I had some time to do some extra knitting.” 

Wondering what she could mean, you finally realize what she’s talking about when she hands you a sweater with your own first initial on it. “Thank you!” You gushed, not hesitating to pull it over your dress. “It’s perfect, Molly, and so cozy! How did you know this is my favorite color?” 

“Bill might have had something to do with that,” she winked. “Merry Christmas, Y/N,” Molly gave your shoulder a squeeze and the two of you walked back into the living room to join the family and the festivities once again. 

The celebration died down as the Weasleys slowly trickled off to bed. Except you and Bill, of course. The two of you were seated in the spot you often found yourself as an evening at the Burrow came to an end. The house had finally quieted down and the room was illuminated by only the glow of the fireplace. You sat together in silence, enjoying the quiet company of one another as you listened to the firewood crackle. 

“How are you feeling?” Bill broke the silence as he shifted his gaze to you. He knew the holiday would be hard for you, but he was just glad he could be by your side.

“I feel… okay, you know?” you offered. “The sadness still lingers, but I’ll be all right, eventually. Actually, I didn’t think I could ever feel happy again before I met you. I think I had accepted the numbness, but now it’s starting to fade away, little by little.”

You stop speaking for a minute to hold Bill’s hands in yours and he rubbed soft circles on your palm with his thumb. As usual, the contact lights your nerves up like a live wire. Finally, you forced your eyes to meet his, which reflected the warm light of the fire and were focused deeply on you. 

An almost magnetic-like force drew you closer and closer to him, until your faces were mere centimeters apart. He cupped your face in his hands and ran his thumb along your lips. “Please…” you whispered, parting your lips and begging for contact before he slowly closed the space between the two of you, pressing his lips gently to yours. You melted into the kiss and his touch and thanked Merlin that you’re seated now because you know for a fact your knees probably would have given out. His soft lips moved in perfect tandem with yours. The kiss was full of months of longing and yearning for one another that had built up, but was all beginning to crumble now. A small moan escaped from your mouth and you felt Bill smiling into the kiss, beyond satisfied with how good he’s made you feel. 

When Bill pulled away, your eyes fluttered open and his hands lingered on your face as you pressed your foreheads together. Your hearts were beating so wildly that you could both only take small, hitched breaths. 

“Y/N…” Bill tried to find his words, but unable to hold it in any longer, he blurted out his confession all at once: “I like you. I like you so, so much. I think I might love you, actually,” he let out a small chuckle at the realization. “You... you consume my every thought. Every week drags on and on because I know that at the end of it I’ll get to see you and I wish I could make the time that we’re apart move faster. And I know you might not be ready yet, but I couldn--”

Warmth spread all over your body and a giddiness took over you. “Bill,” you say, interrupting him, unable to keep your feelings in any longer either, but also dying to have your lips entangled with his once again. “I like you so much. Being with you has helped me to feel again. And I feel so much for you.” 

Bill kissed you again and again and again and again with intensity and fervour into the wee hours of the morning. When you woke up on the sofa after just a few hours of sleep you were curled up into Bill’s side. It felt right to wake up like this: by his side, in his arms. He presses a delicate kiss to the top of your head and whispers a good morning into your hair. Soon, though, you hear the footsteps of his siblings rushing down the stairs. 

“Merry Christmas!” Fred and George exclaimed and raised an eyebrow when they saw the two of you snuggled up on the sofa. 

When he first caught a glimpse of the same sight, Ron questioned, “What’s all this then?” 

When Ginny and Molly entered the room, Ginny’s face wore an expression of shock as she pointed to a small bunch of unassuming greenery hanging right above the sofa. “MISTLETOE!” she yelled with an excitement in her voice that had the power to wake up that rest of the family. “Bill! Y/N! It’s your turn! You have to kiss or it’ll be bad luck!” You and Bill shared a knowing look; if only Ginny knew about the hundreds of kisses that were already shared in that very spot. Because he knew he wasn’t going to hear the end of it either way, he gently tilted your chin up and placed a soft, gentle kiss on your lips. The sensation was just as strong as the first time he kissed you and it was then that you knew that you wouldn’t get tired of Bill Weasley’s sweet lips anytime soon. 

Something in the way you beamed up at Bill and the way Bill cast a loving gaze down to you when you pulled apart told Molly all she needed to know. Love radiated between the two of you, whether or not you needed the mistletoe to seal the deal. Molly wore a proud smirk for the rest of the day, nonetheless.

**Author's Note:**

> hiiiiii, this is my first fic EVER!!!! I got a little carried away with the length, but I hope you enjoy!! I am so soft for Bill Weasley and once this idea popped into my head I had to write it!! thank you for reading!! 
> 
> A mini fic playlist: “uuu” by Field Medic; “Hallelujah” by HAIM; “Daylight” by Taylor Swift; “Iris” cover by Phoebe Bridgers & Maggie Rogers; “anything” by Adrianne Lenker; “When You Wash Your Hair” by Matt Maltese


End file.
